“Thrace?” Trin asked again and he nodded shortly.
“I am well.” His voice came out stiff and halting and he tried again. “I am well and ready to be collared.”
“I don’t believe this,” Sidna said flatly. “You’re saying he’s staying on as your slave willingly? And he’s also willing to wear the collar—the one that almost killed him?”
“He is,” Trin said steadily, looking at Thrace though she was answering the medic. “Thrace volunteered to wear the pain collar so that you and the rest of the crew would know he is not a threat. I have the remote and I will use it if it looks like he is trying to harm any one of us.”
“I would expect nothing less,” Thrace said stolidly. He took a deep breath. There was nothing to do but get it over with. Taking a step towards her, he fell to his knees on the cold metal floor at her feet. “Mistress,” he said, his voice coming out hoarse and gravely. “I submit to you and offer my neck for your collar. I will serve you until I die or until you set me free.”
Trin cleared her throat. “And you submit to my collar and my will of your own volition?”
“I do,” Thrace said hoarsely. “I will belong to you body and soul. I will protect you with my life, shield you from harm in times of danger, and pleasure you in times of peace. To the last drop of my blood, I…am…yours.”
Those words…the words he had always refused to say. He said them to Trin now. They brought back more memories—an evil tide of poison from the past that threatened to drown him. Say it! the Master screamed. Say that you’re mine! Fucking say it, boy!
Thrace bowed his head, trying to drive the tide back, to banish the past. Gods…
“Thrace…” Trin reached out tentatively and stroked his hair. It was a gentle touch—the same way she might soothe an animal on the verge of panic. Thrace found himself soothed by it now.
He couldn’t help himself—the memories had undone him and for a long moment he couldn’t push them back. He leaned into her touch, looking for reassurance, needing her scent and the warmth of her hand to know it was safe to do this…safe to submit to the collar he had so hated in the past.
Not the Master, he told himself over and over. She’s not the Master.
Why the fuck are you putting yourself through this? demanded the sarcastic little voice in his brain. Why endure the pain and the rush of bad memories? Is it really just to pay a debt?
Again, he had no answers. He simply held still under her touch, breathing her warm, feminine scent and trying to calm his screaming nerves. Even surrounded by B’Rugh’s goons he hadn’t felt this fucked up—this threatened. In a moment he would be able to bury the past again. But for now, it was all he could do to hold still and let this happen, all he could do to submit to the collar for her sake though he still didn’t know why exactly he was doing it.
“Thrace,” Trin whispered again and her hand moved lower, caressing his cheek, cupping his jaw.
A warm current seemed to flow through him at the skin-to-skin touch and at last his labored breathing became easier.
Not the Master…The past began to recede.
“Are you sure you can do this?” Trin asked in a low voice, for his ears alone.
Thrace looked up at her. “I have to,” he murmured. “It’s the only way you can trust me.”
She looked troubled but at last she nodded.
“True. All right—here goes.”
Thrace held his breath and closed his eyes as she fastened the hated black collar around his throat, making sure it wasn’t too tight as she fit it in place. Not the Master…not the Master, not the Master…
“There.” She said at last, cupping his cheek again. “It’s done.”
“Thank you, Mistress.”
Thrace could barely get the words out. Turning his face, he pressed a kiss to the palm of her hand. It was the final gesture of submission—kissing the hand that collared him.
He knew it was the correct gesture because it was what the old Master had demanded of him. But he had never given the old Master that satisfaction or said the words he had spoken to Trin, no matter how much the Master shouted and raved and hit. No matter what…other things he did.
Now he gave the gesture of submission to Trin without hesitation, just as he had given the words.
Why?
He still didn’t know.
The debt. I just have to pay off the debt.
The debt. Right.
“Rise, slave,” he heard her say in a strange, slightly strangled voice. “I claim you as my own and demand your utmost respect and loyalty at all times. You will serve in whatever capacity I deem necessary and you will not be free until I say you are. Until I remove this collar and give you your freedom you are mine.”
So she knew the words too. Was that from being around the mistresses of Yonnie Six? Thrace wondered as he looked up at her and got slowly to his feet.
He heard an uneasy murmur from The Alacrity’s crew as he stood to his full height and towered over all of them. But Trin held up a hand to quiet them.
“You all saw the ceremony,” she said in a clear, ringing voice. “You see that Thrace is wearing the collar and I have the remote.” She lifted it high, letting them all get a good look. “You can go about your business now with confidence that you’re safe.”
“I don’t feel so very confident,” the navigator said, frowning. “Why would he let you put the collar on him in the first place? Why come back when Sidna had set him free to go his own way?”
“To pay a debt,” Thrace answered before Trin could speak. “You may not think much of males but my people are honorable. Captain Trin…my Mistress, paid a great deal of credit to buy my life. When I have paid that back, we have agreed she will set me free and let me go my own way. Until then, I am her humble, obedient, and willing slave.”
“Well…” The navigator looked somewhat mollified. “I guess we’ll see about that. But I hope she shocks the hell out of you if you try anything.”
“I will,” Trin said steadily. “You don’t have to worry about your safety—none of you do. The remote is now keyed to my heat signature and palm print alone. No one else can use it and no one can take it from me. Here, Sidna—try.” She held out the remote to the medic and waited until the older female unfolded her arms and reached for the small black rectangle.
“Ouch!” She jumped back as a bright spark flashed between her fingertips and the remote.
“See?” Trin said, smiling grimly. “Perfectly safe.”
“How do we know he can’t take it?” one of the other crew members demanded.
“If Thrace so much as touches the remote it will cause his collar to deliver a very painful shock,” Trin announced.
“Let’s see it,” Sidna said.
“No, I won’t be needlessly cruel. He—” Before she could finish, Thrace reached for the remote.
The moment his fingertips brushed it the pain collar delivered a current of electrical pain so strong it made his entire body feel like he’d been dipped in boiling oil.
“Gods!” He gave a hoarse gasp and fell back to his knees, his hand clenched into fists and his heart pounding. Son of a bitch that hurt! But he well knew how necessary it had been.
“Thrace!” Trin knelt by him at once, putting the remote carefully to one side where everyone avoided it like the plague. “Are you all right?” she asked, looking at him anxiously.
“Fine.” He looked up at her, panting. “Just…had to do it.”
“No, you didn’t.” She looked back at the crew who was still standing there, staring. “Go on, all of you. Back to posts. And Nanda,” pointing at the navigator. “Set a course for Yonnie Six.”
There were several subdued murmurs of, “Yes, Captain,” and the crew immediately disbursed. All except Sidna who stood there staring at him for a long moment, a stony, disbelieving look on her face.
“Sidna, you too.” Trin frowned at the medic who shrugged.